


Rest of the (New American) Century

by warrickstokes (drugdog)



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Break Up, Hurt No Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 12:05:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6328285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drugdog/pseuds/warrickstokes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On March 15th, Marco Rubio ends his participation in the race to the White House- but that's not the only thing. In an even more difficult decision, Marco ends his relationship with a man he knows he could love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest of the (New American) Century

**Author's Note:**

> this is a joke work, made from pure fuckery. #bernie2k16

It's over.

His Miami voters "came in clutch," as the kids say, but the rest of his state, the state he was born and raised in, lost faith and invested on that bastard with the carrot-colored, saggy skin.

In other words, Marco is royally screwed. Or presidentially screwed, since the United States isn't a monarchy. Presidential candidately screwed.

The only thing that can salvage the Republican Party is a brokered convention- Kasich could win. Kasich, who had been doing worse than him until now. Kasich, who is still hundreds of delegates behind. Kasich, who held on longer than Marco did. 

On March 15, he gives a speech in front of his loyal supporters to suspend his campaign. It pulls his heartstrings tight enough to snap, and the words feel stuck fast in his constricted throat. 

There's no denying he goes out with a bang. The cheers he got, along with the boos for Trump, secure that for him. He doesn't sweat as much as he had along the campaign trail, and the water bottle's worth of tears welling inside keeps him hydrated. Some of the words he says stick with him through the rest of the night. 

"While we are on the right side, this year, we will not be on the winning side."

He'll be back. Reagan didn't win the first time, either, and he's still young, with a lot of experience left to get.

As much as it hurts, there's a sort of relief that washes over him as he steps off of the stage. Jeanette, Daniella, Anthony, Dominick, and Amanda are all waiting for him, sad smiles gracing their faces in solidarity, but before he joins his family at home for the night, there's one last goodbye he has to get through.

Leaving the venue, he kisses Jeanette, and her soft red lips force him to shove the sin he's soon to commit to the back of his mind.

►

Marco spends a minute standing in front of the door of the hotel room before he knocks twice, clears his throat, and adjusts his tie. It's looser than usual, but it still pinches his neck, making him breathe faster and harder, loud to his own ears. He licks his mouth, glancing over at the vending machine at the end of the hall, at its tempting water bottles.

The door opens just as Marco turns away, already feeling around in the pocket of his slacks for his wallet.

"Marco," Ted says, soft, with that lilting Southern accent. He closes his eyes and steels himself so Ted doesn't see him shiver at his voice. 

He pivots on his heel to face Ted, and the corners of his mouth twitch up. Ted attempts to smile back, or at least it seems like he does. Marco's never been able to tell. He's dressed down- just a button-up and jeans with one of his too-large, over-the-top belt buckles, and Marco sees his laptop open on the desk behind him. 

"It's a two-man race now," Marco says, sighing from his nose. The radio talk show hosts Marco heard on his way to the hotel have already dubbed it that. "I thought I should congratulate you."

Ted gestures for Marco to come in. "Heidi took the kids out for dinner," he says, eyes shifting down and back up. "Texas Roadhouse." 

He steps inside. Ted closes the door behind him. As soon as he has, Marco wheels around. "Ted... We need to talk." 

"Not now, amorcito," Ted murmurs. He can't roll his "r's" and the pronunciation is awkward. Marco's slacks tighten anyway. He waits for Ted to close the distance between them, step by step, until their lips meet in a careful kiss.

Ted's hands come up to unbutton Marco's jacket, and he moves to push them away, but ends up grabbing his wrists instead, goading Ted on. He shrugs it off his shoulders and lets Ted edge him back until he hits the desk. It's good, feels right and secure, that Ted is taller than him. 

The jacket falls to the floor. Ted brackets him in against the desk, pressing their groins close together.

Marco groans low in his throat and pulls out of the kiss. "Ted," he says, and kisses the corner of his mouth, the ever-receding line of his jaw. "If we're going to, just... please."

Ted reaches for Marco's belt buckle at the same time as Marco reaches for Ted's. "I was waitin' for you to ask."

►

The thread count of Ted's bed is ridiculous. Marco would take a jab at him for it at any other time, but right now, the sheets are soft and smooth against his bare back, like velvet. At any other time, Ted's hands wouldn't be on him, his body wouldn't be solid above him, and Marco would be able to make a joke.

"Ted... Oh, Lord have mercy..." Marco says. Ted's kissing his neck, as wary as ever to leaving telling marks on the skin. He presses his hips up against Ted's and makes a soft sound at the way he shifts inside of him.

As a child, he'd always been told laying with another man would damn him, but the only thing that could damn him now would be Ted leaving. He had always taken his preachers at their word, and thought this would be folly. Now Marco knows it's the opposite. 

He's not sure lovemaking with Jeanette will ever be the same after Ted.

He can't last for much longer. They've been going for ages. His body is hot as the sun and his mouth is dry enough for two water bottles. He's sweating more than he was when Christie called him out for repeating the same line four times over.

"Hold on a little longer, Marco," Ted says, panting hot air out against his collarbone. He has to know Marco came to tell him it would be their last night spent together. "Just a little longer." His fingers dig into Marco's hipbones. Guilt cuts through his stomach at the feeling of Ted's wedding band. Or is that his intestines rejecting Ted's dick?

"P-President Cruz," he whines, bucking up with a neediness so great he might as well be one of the greedy, grey-moraled leeches on Obamacare. Calling Ted that has always sent him over the edge. "Save this country... Start with me."

"Ah, sakes alive," Ted gasps, thumbs pressing hard into his abdomen and hips jerking forward before he lets himself go. Marco goes with him, arching up and resisting the urge to rake his nails down Ted's back.

Marco lies there after, chest heaving to catch his breath. "We... we can't do this," he says, as soon as he can speak without inhaling between each word like he does- or did- during exciting speeches. "We can't do this anymore, Ted. On the campaign trail, it worked, but we can't rent no-tell motel rooms every other weekend. We have our wives, we have our kids."

Ted rolls off of him and pulls his tighty whities back up. "I know, Marco... I just thought... Just wish-"

"This is a sin, Ted," Marco interjects, reaching off the side of the bed for his underwear. "We both know it's a sin." He's not so sure it is, not after what's happened between them, but he can't tell Ted that. It has to end here. "I have to go. Heidi'll be home with Catherine and Caroline soon, and I'll miss out on movie night with Jeanette and the kids."

"I just wish we had more time," Ted blurts out. "I wish we could have the rest of your new American century, just to ourselves."

Marco slides out of bed and redresses. Neither of them speak again. He ignores the heaviness of his heart on his way out and tries to lighten it by buying a bottle of water from the vending machine before he heads to his car.

►

Jeanette's waiting for him on the couch when he slips in through the front door of his south Miami home. It's later than he wanted to get back. The last few frames of Lilo & Stitch roll across the screen of their TV before it blackens and the credits start.

Daniella is fast asleep under a blanket on the floor, and Dominick has followed her example, passed out with his head in his mother's lap. Amanda is tapping away at her phone.

"Hi, sweetie," he says. He kisses Jeanette, praying the bottled water washed away the sweet taste of Ted's lips. "Where's Anthony?"

"Making popcorn. It's his turn to pick when he gets back. Dominick wanted this one, of course," she says. Patting the couch cushion beside her, she smiles. "Get everything taken care of?"

Marco sighs and smiles, Ted's watery, downturned eyes on his mind. "Not everything. But there's always tomorrow." He wraps an arm around his wife and struggles to make it feel right. "Or the rest of this new American century."


End file.
